Rainy nights are always inspiring of rainy nights.
Driving
on the shiny wet black highway,
watching wheels watching wheels glide
over the shadows from
red tail lights
and the
orange street lamps stand alone,
side by side by side.
It is cold. Quiet,
except for the uninteresting DJs on the radio reading tales of unrequited
love to go with ballads of pining
fornication
and the
soft sha-sha sounds
of the passing vehicles passing vehicles
that may explode
if they grow any little
bit louder.
It occurs to me that the drive will never really have to end
if I don't yet want it to.
The bloody
broken
lines in the
middle
of the roads chasing each other,
destined never to
catch up
with one another, chase
each other.
So, who do you think of, on rainy nights like these?
I cannot think of anyone in particular,
except
maybe that Charles Bukowski guy,
there's only the rusty-more-rain-harbouring-sky.
(sneak.)
Friday, 22 December 2006
Wednesday, 6 December 2006
Neville
One sunny day,
I was woken up by the little winds swinging on my yellow curtains as high and as faraway from my windows as possible.
The birds were also saying hello to somebody.
I don’t know their language.
I opened my eyes to welcome the winds.
Wake up, wake up, the winds are here.
My easily excitable curtains said to me.
The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sunshine, bright but pleasant.
The winds were on their way herding the clouds from south to north.
The little winds came to sit by the windows by my bed to look at my sleepy face, or to play with the yellow curtains, or to wake me up, or to do nothing at all.
That was when I first met Neville.
That sunny day.
Neville, a fair haired fair little boy waved to me from a cloud that he was on.
Obviously, at first, I had to wonder if he was a god but he said no.
Then I wondered if he was an angel but he said no to that too.
He said that he had asked to come along with the winds and that he was from a tiny place quite far away.
It was most acceptable because I thought he looked neither like a god nor an angel.
And the little winds tugged on my hair and the yellow curtains for a while.
I always wish for the winds to take me away too but they never seem to take the idea seriously. Sometimes they'll laugh a bit and wave a tree nearby saying "not today, not today".
Most of the time, I'm really just glad that they even bother to say hi.
So I think that Neville must be quite special, or at least more special than me.
And I also think I'm quite right.
There was really something about Neville that kept me from being envious of him.
I cannot place my finger on it, but there's really something about him that reminds me of... something strangely familiar...
He was quite tired or quite something else, I could not tell.
Anyway, he said that he had looked up to the winds and clouds all the time, from his window where he used to live, and that looking down from them was different.
Then he said, but then again, the letter "N" looks the same upside down or downside up.
"N is for Neville."
He said and I remember.
I never saw him again, but I think of him sometimes. I don't ask about him.
I like to watch the dust and things and the fallen leaves of the rain tree scurry across the ground when the winds come by.
If I see him again, that Neville boy, I'll offer him cherries if I happen to have any. If I don't, I'll tell him that I would offer him some had I had any. I wonder if they have red cherries in the tiny place he came from, but I just have a feeling that they don't have the black-skinned ones that will have red juice staining your mouth and teeth and tongue and everywhere in between.
I also have a feeling that he won't like cherries in the way I think he may like them.
This morning, the weather was fine too.
Then it rained quite hard in the afternoon.
(sneak.)
I was woken up by the little winds swinging on my yellow curtains as high and as faraway from my windows as possible.
The birds were also saying hello to somebody.
I don’t know their language.
I opened my eyes to welcome the winds.
Wake up, wake up, the winds are here.
My easily excitable curtains said to me.
The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and the sunshine, bright but pleasant.
The winds were on their way herding the clouds from south to north.
The little winds came to sit by the windows by my bed to look at my sleepy face, or to play with the yellow curtains, or to wake me up, or to do nothing at all.
That was when I first met Neville.
That sunny day.
Neville, a fair haired fair little boy waved to me from a cloud that he was on.
Obviously, at first, I had to wonder if he was a god but he said no.
Then I wondered if he was an angel but he said no to that too.
He said that he had asked to come along with the winds and that he was from a tiny place quite far away.
It was most acceptable because I thought he looked neither like a god nor an angel.
And the little winds tugged on my hair and the yellow curtains for a while.
I always wish for the winds to take me away too but they never seem to take the idea seriously. Sometimes they'll laugh a bit and wave a tree nearby saying "not today, not today".
Most of the time, I'm really just glad that they even bother to say hi.
So I think that Neville must be quite special, or at least more special than me.
And I also think I'm quite right.
There was really something about Neville that kept me from being envious of him.
I cannot place my finger on it, but there's really something about him that reminds me of... something strangely familiar...
He was quite tired or quite something else, I could not tell.
Anyway, he said that he had looked up to the winds and clouds all the time, from his window where he used to live, and that looking down from them was different.
Then he said, but then again, the letter "N" looks the same upside down or downside up.
"N is for Neville."
He said and I remember.
I never saw him again, but I think of him sometimes. I don't ask about him.
I like to watch the dust and things and the fallen leaves of the rain tree scurry across the ground when the winds come by.
If I see him again, that Neville boy, I'll offer him cherries if I happen to have any. If I don't, I'll tell him that I would offer him some had I had any. I wonder if they have red cherries in the tiny place he came from, but I just have a feeling that they don't have the black-skinned ones that will have red juice staining your mouth and teeth and tongue and everywhere in between.
I also have a feeling that he won't like cherries in the way I think he may like them.
This morning, the weather was fine too.
Then it rained quite hard in the afternoon.
(sneak.)
Friday, 1 December 2006
Red monkey bars
They hang side by side by side by side...
As they titter gleefully to me,
"Come and come and come outside
and come and play with me with me...
and come and come to see to see."
On this rainy day the raindrops play
and play and hang on the red monkey
bars side by side by side they sway
in a random way in a tolerable degree
to the cold wind beneath the tree.
"The sky's so blue and you would know
if you would come and come and hang
and hang on the first or the final row
where the drops will then go and hang
and hang from beneath your shoe and hang."
"My friends my friends my raindrop friends how can you see
when you're watching the sky's so blue
so blue so big so small so red the monkey
bars and your friends that flew right through...
you may weep too if you only knew you are a lucky few."
"Don't weep and come and play for friends who missed the game today
for you know i know they know we'll all die or dry one day
one day two days three hundred days we'll die and fly away
like you like me the raindrops come as the clouds shall surely gray
so dry your tears and wet your face and say ‘Only today is today!
The sky's so blue and now i know how rainy blue sky's blue
because i came to hang to play with the raindrops on my shoe!' "
As they titter gleefully to me,
"Come and come and come outside
and come and play with me with me...
and come and come to see to see."
On this rainy day the raindrops play
and play and hang on the red monkey
bars side by side by side they sway
in a random way in a tolerable degree
to the cold wind beneath the tree.
"The sky's so blue and you would know
if you would come and come and hang
and hang on the first or the final row
where the drops will then go and hang
and hang from beneath your shoe and hang."
"My friends my friends my raindrop friends how can you see
when you're watching the sky's so blue
so blue so big so small so red the monkey
bars and your friends that flew right through...
you may weep too if you only knew you are a lucky few."
"Don't weep and come and play for friends who missed the game today
for you know i know they know we'll all die or dry one day
one day two days three hundred days we'll die and fly away
like you like me the raindrops come as the clouds shall surely gray
so dry your tears and wet your face and say ‘Only today is today!
The sky's so blue and now i know how rainy blue sky's blue
because i came to hang to play with the raindrops on my shoe!' "
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